Dark
by Laatija
Summary: The animal and the alien were both in his possession. Nevid was the master of them both. Master of animal and alien. He was master of all." Kidnapped Sheppard. Whumpage. Physically and very much mentally. A story of madness. Pure and Simple.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own stargate Atlantis. If I did, they wouldn't be quitting after five seasons…. But I do own Nevid and Lana. I might let you borrow them if you ask nicely.

A/N: This is a WIP and chapters may be posted with up to two weeks in between. I'll try to keep it at a week but I'm a new college student so that might not happen. I will NOT leave the story unfinished.

Without further ado…

**Dark**

Breathe in.

Through the gag, through the blood.

Push the air out again.

Don't flinch.

_Silence._

Breathe in.

Through the gag, through the blood and broken bone.

Push the air out again.

_Don't_ flinch.

_Silence._

Breathe in.

Don't stop.

Through the gag, through the blood and bone fragments.

_Don't stop_.

Push the air out again.

Don't flinch.

_DON'T. STOP._

* * *

To Be Continued


	2. X

"Just, take it easy." John held out his right hand towards the shaking figure in the middle of the room while his left hand held the P-90 as far away as possible from her. The tension was palpable as five people in the small room stared at the trembling woman…the woman who happened to be squeezing the trigger mechanism of a grenade.

"Where are you here?!" She shrieked.

An anxious man cooed to her. "They are friends Lana; they are here to become trade partners."

"This hasn't happened before…This shouldn't happen! You shouldn't be here!" She shouted at John. Sheppard slowly put his gun on the ground.

"We can be gone as soon as you give me the grenade." He said softly. The woman stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Her skin was pale and pasty and she hardly looked strong enough to stand.

"Why are you here?!" She shrieked again. John spied Teyla as she silently crept up behind the woman. He simply tried to focus on the disturbing woman before him.

The woman had popped up out of the blue on the three days ago. She came running, screaming and wailing, into the small village in which they were currently establishing trade relations with. The villagers had ushered her away, out of sight from the 'Lantians but on the next day, she found herself one of the grenades that Ronon just so happened to have with him and then decided to crash their negotiations. For some reason that no one couldn't fathom, she'd seemed obsessed with the 'Lantians.

"Why do you think we're here?" John challenged. The woman blinked. Then seemed to shake harder than before.

"I-I don't…" She sobbed. Teyla took the momentary distraction of tears to reach for the hands that held the explosive. But the woman sensed it coming. She shrieked and spun around, getting ready to let go of the grenade. John darted forward, his hands closing in around hers as he tackled her to the ground. The woman bucked and twisted but John far outweighed the frail body beneath him. One of his hands was kept firmly around the woman's while his other arm snaked in around her to keep her from pulling away. For a few scarce seconds, the woman struggled and fought to get away. The tension started to build again. John just held on tight, refusing to be blow away by a crazy woman. But then the woman in his arms seemed to melt. She stopped struggling and just sobbed and wailed in his arms.

"Ronon…get the grenade…_now_." John ordered. The big man moved in to slowly push his hands under the woman's. Once the device was safe in his hands, Ronon ran outside. Several long seconds later, John could hear the faint _boom_. He still held the shaking, sobbing woman in his arms, waiting for someone to take her from him. The surrounding villagers made no move to do so. John waited a minute before trying to stand.

"Teyla, help me get her up." Between the two of them, they managed to get the woman on her feet though she still clutched his shirt with a strength that belied her frail form. And _still_ the woman's people made no move to help her. John shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't quite used to consoling crazy, hysterical women. He shot a 'help me' glance to Teyla; she was good at stuff like this. But even Teyla looked lost.

John huffed. "Ok, someone want to take her?" He asked the others in the room. The people shifted nervously but didn't say anything. _Now_ John was ticked. How anyone could just abandon a woman like this… Granted, she had waved an explosive around but she seemed genuinely confused and scared and something was obviously wrong. The way she clung to him…as if she were afraid to let go. John was suddenly gripped with compassion for the poor woman.

"What should we do?" Teyla asked quietly.

"I need to get rid of this girl…"He muttered. "Ok. Does this woman have any family around here?" He asked the villagers in the room. They glanced around at one another with meaningful looks. Finally, someone spoke up.

"We cannot accept her into our village anymore."

John blinked. "What?"

"She is cursed; we cannot allow her to live here."

"What's going to happen to her?!" Rodney peeped from the other side of the room, where he'd been hiding during the whole ordeal.

"Most likely, she will die." The villager said simply. The three 'Lantians shared a troubled look.

"We cannot leave her here." Teyla said quietly to John.

"I was thinking the same thing." He muttered. "Rodney, come here. You and Ronon need to go back to Atlantis and tell 'em we're bringing this woman back. Explain the situation to Carter. You should probably do that first actually."

"Are you sure we should bring her with us?" Rodney asked.

"She's gonna die if we leave her here McKay. Do you really want to do that?" John challenged.

"…I guess not."

"Find Ronon and get back to Atlantis. Teyla and I will make sure things are wrapped up here." John stared at McKay, who still hadn't moved. "Go…now!"

"Right…going." The scientist muttered as he ran out of the room.

John looked around one last time at the villagers in the room, who happened to be glancing elsewhere. "Teyla, can you take her?" He asked. The Athosian made a valiant attempt to pry the woman's hands off of his shirt but it was no use, the woman only got more hysterical. He cursed under his breath, figuring it was going to be a while before he got rid of this chick. With awkward movements, John managed to pick the woman up, holding her close to him, and made his way outside. After some more hurried words, it was decided that Teyla would try one last time to convince the villagers to help the woman while John went to the halfway point between the village and the gate where he could try to calm the woman in peace and quiet.

John sat in the tall grass, waiting for Teyla. By now, the woman had stopped sobbing but only because she was exhausted. Her body was limp in his arms…all but her hands which were white and shaking due to the tenacity of her grip. John repositioned her so her head was on his shoulder. A few minutes passed in silence before he worried about her hand muscles.

"Hey…um…" He struggled to remember the name that one guy used. "Lana?" She stiffened. "Ok, Lana, can you let go?" He coxed. "You're probably gonna regret it later if you don't." She started shaking and John suddenly heard the possible threat in his words. "Oh…no…I mean your hands will hurt a lot if you don't relax your muscles." He added hastily. With great effort, her head raised up a few inches off of his shoulder.

"D-don't…don't let me go?" She said in a watery voice. John's eyebrows scrunched together.

"Um. No…no I won't let you go." He promised. Hesitantly, her fingers slowly uncurled and dropped down to her lap. John smiled encouragingly. "See? Doesn't that feel better?" He asked with as much cheerfulness he could muster. A heavy sigh rolled through her body. John glanced down at her and saw silent tears leaking out of her shut eyes. "Hey, you're ok now." He assured her. "You're safe." Something horrible had obviously happened to this poor woman in his arms. John's imagination ran wild with the possibilities.

The air was warm. Birds were chirping. The sun was shining.

He could feel the woman melt into his arms. But as she calmed, he noticed some sickening details about her that he'd missed before. Her hair was cut haphazardly and her scalp had a few bald scab incrusted spots on it. Bruises and cuts peppered her yellowish skin. Her muscles twitched and quivered in a way that was _not_ associated with fear or cold. John began to wonder whether or not it was a good idea to be so close to her.

The smell of year old compost wafted up into his nostrils.

Suddenly, the woman started shaking hard, muttering and babbling. "No…no no no no no! Free…'m free…no! Don't let 'im take me! Don't let 'im!"

John tightened his hold on her. "Who? Who is trying to take you?" He asked.

"Please….please help me!" She muttered.

"Ok…ok, just take it easy." John said quietly into her ear. She screamed.

Then a strange voice whispered into his ear.

"_And you can die." _

The voice sent shivers down his spine and John whipped his head around. Nothing was there but sun and grass and blue sky. By the time he turned back towards the woman, a large dark object was being hurtled into his vision split seconds before everything went dark in a spurt of blood.

XXX

He shouldn't have touched her. That was his problem. True, many people had touched her…but he was more interesting. He was an alien. The alien shouldn't have touched his woman.

Nevid's woman.

But he had and now the fun would continue. The fools in the village weren't so fun anymore. They were simpletons. But the alien…he was advanced. He would be fun to study. Like peeling back the layers of a beetle to see how it worked. It would take something completely different to properly study. Or perhaps nothing different at all. Or perhaps both. Different and not different.

The alien was special. And he was heavy. Nevid had not carried this much weight in a very long time. How would he carry both the alien and the woman? The woman would follow. She had to follow. She could do nothing else but follow, like the animal that she was. Even now he could hear her footsteps in the grass behind him. Foolish of her to follow him.

Foolish animal.

The animal and the alien were both in his possession. Nevid was the master of them both. Master of animal and alien.

He was master of all.

He could feel blood dribbling down his back as the lanky alien was draped across his shoulder. It was warm. Sticky. Wet. Smelly.

Tempting.

Nevid would enjoy this very much. Very much indeed.


	3. XX

XXX

"John? I had no success with the village, I am coming to you." Teyla spoke into the radio. She strolled along the bright path. There was no answer. Perhaps the woman was still hysterical… "John? John, please answer."

Still nothing. Teyla started to jog. Her hurried steps were muffled from the thick grass that was on the ground. Nature seemed to be telling her that nothing was wrong…nothing at all. Teyla knew better.

Her running came to an abrupt halt as her eyes spilled over a depression in the grass… but no John. What was more alarming was the dark red stain on the grass. Teyla bent down and fingered the blood. It was tacky and far darker than fresh blood. This was a very very bad thing. Old blood meant that it was spilled far too long ago…

Teyla couldn't hesitate. She needed help and she needed it now.

XXX

The immediate sensation was pain. It startled him and he gasped, head jerking upwards. Then he instantly regretted the motion as a wave of dizziness rushed into his brain. His whole body was washed in a ring of bright light, blinding him from what lay outside of the ring.

John groaned. He had been bushwhacked. Again. He was getting tired of waking up to a freakin' headache! Just once, he wouldn't mind being kidnapped _consciously_ without being slapped upside the head.

John slowly flexed his limbs. Tied. His arms were tied behind him and he sat on a hard metal chair. His legs were tied to it. Villains, they lacked imagination in _any_ galaxy. At least he could vaguely figure out what was going to happen next. Perhaps he should become a profiler for Pegasus bad guys—

The woman.

He'd almost forgotten about her. Her name was…

"Lana?" he called out. "Lana!"

There was a whimper far off to his left. John craned his head to the side and squinted, trying hard to see past the blinding glare. "Lana, are you ok? Can you hear me?"

More whimpering; gentle sobs.

"Ok, listen Lana; I'm going to get you out of here. Ok? We're going to be ok." John pulled at the ropes which bound him. Except…they weren't ropes. More like thick wires. That bit into his skin. No more pulling his hands…

"Now then," a voice spoke. "Who do we have?" The speaker had a slightly psychotic tone to his voice, judging by the way it trilled up and down as if the person was contemplating singing. John strained to see the speaker. All he could make out was a tall dark shadow that circled him like a vulture. Or a tiger about to pounce on cornered prey. Neither image being very comforting. But John was used to this by now; he realized bitterly.

"Name!" The speaker said sharply.

"Indiana Jones." John snapped. The speaker laughed; an eerie melodious sound.

"Is it his name? Or is it a lie? Or is his name a lie? Would that then make the man a lie?"

John blinked. Dr. Evil didn't just sound psychotic, he _was_ psychotic.

"And who are you?" John asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

The circling shadow stopped somewhere behind him. "Nevid is his name." The voice was next to his ear. He could feel hot breath hissing past his skin. A foul stench wafted from the breath to his nostrils.

"Nevid, you really need to learn concept of mouthwash." John wrinkled his nose for effect. "Honestly…'cause that was disgusting."

A blast of foul air blossomed across his nose, accompanied by a bemused 'hmm'. "Disgusting is it? Offensive maybe?" The trilling mad voice mused. "It is concerned with trivial things, he thinks." A pause. More contemplative humming. "Perhaps it is trying to hide its fear behind the trivial. Mayhap it is trying to offend with would be embarrassment. What is the sweat for? Is it hot? He does not think so. It is cool in his pit."

John's brow furrowed in genuine concern. This was quickly turning into something beyond freaky. Quite suddenly, his captor yanked his head back and something fairly rough and wet dragged across his forehead. The something reminded him of a cats tongue. The thought made his stomach churn. Nevid smacked his lips behind him, like someone who had just gotten a good taste of something.

"Not heat, he thinks. Nevid thinks it is…fear. It tastes like fear. It doesn't know him. Never seen one like Nevid. It is frightened of him. Because he is special. Nevid is special."

John swallowed the spit that had pooled in his mouth. He forced himself to take a deep breath. Ok, so this wasn't normal interrogation 101. He wasn't even sure if this was an interrogation. This was all one sided so far. But he needed to make it a two way conversation.

"What do you want from me?" John asked. Nevid let his head go with a snort.

"Why does it want to know? Is the information important? He supposes it is. For _it_, anyway. Is it important for him to tell it? Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Look, stop the word games. What do you want from me?" John snapped. Truly, he was getting tired of this.

Nevid started circling him again. More slowly this time. John could make out a humanoid shape that was _slightly_ more defined; less of a shadow. But the glaring white light still kept any real details from him. The figure was tall and looked big. He walked slightly hunched over, as if the ceiling were too low for him to stand comfortably.

"Games. It thinks he's playing a game. Children play games. He's not a child. Not a child's game. Not this."

"Why did you kidnap me?" John wanted answers. But he wasn't completely sure he was going to get them.

"Fun. Games." Nevid said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "You touched her. Broke the rules."

"Who, Lana?"

"The animal," Nevid hissed. Lana moaned in anguish. "We want to hear it scream. We want to peel back its layers. We want to make a friend like him."

John slowly pushed his chin up defiantly. "We who?"

"The master and the animal of course. We are very curious to see what it does."

Lana moaned again, trailing off into a pathetic whimper.

John shifted nervously. He foresaw an unpleasant experience on his horizon. As he mentally went through his list of escape options, John felt his mind suddenly hesitate. Almost like he'd lost track of what he was thinking of but this felt more…obtrusive. Like some outside source was trying to pull at his focus.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed back against the source, finding that it gave way almost instantly. Curious. It almost felt like…

John's eyes snapped open in surprise. His lips crumpled up into a grimace. It felt like a super watered down version of whatever the wraith queens did to his head.

"Shall he begin?" Nevid sounded joyful. Excited. John felt his stomach twist.

Nevid walked out of view. John could hear him moving around. Heard something heavy being dragged into place behind him. Then a thin black sack was pulled over his head, effectively cutting out most of the light. Nevid pressed something to his neck. Then tore off his shirt. John flinched at the sudden cold. He focused on keeping his breathing steady, not willing to concede to such a blatant display of panic as panting. Small round metal disks were pressed to his bare chest. Similar disks were stuck to each finger tip. John flexed his fingers and felt the tug of wires.

He gulped and redoubled his efforts to stay calm. Wires and metal meant electrocution. _Cannot say anything about Atlantis or Earth._ John told himself firmly. He knew that _now_. But once the sparks started flying, his mind might be tempted to forget it. _Gotta keep my family safe. Gotta protect my country._ He repeated his new mantras, keeping them fresh in his mind. It was precautionary; he could withstand a lot of pain. But better safe than sorry.

A cold hand reached up under the hood and shoved something hard between his teeth. The wooden gag was secured around the back of his neck; not going anywhere no matter how hard he jerked.

"Mustn't break its teeth," Nevid muttered. "What's in its head? We wonder. We ponder. It must answer his questions with its head, can't properly talk." By the sound of the voice, Nevid was circling again; building the tension. "Is it human?"

John hesitated, not quite sure if that was an actual question directed towards him. It seemed to be an odd question. Then again, there wasn't anything about this situation that _wasn't_ odd.

He nodded slowly.

There was a short humming sound directly before the electricity surged into his body.

John jerked and convulsed as white hot pain thrummed through his hands and arms and swirled through his chest. The electricity seemed to separate every cell and atom in his body before caressing it with deadly intensity.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.

John slumped in his chair, not even bothering to control the panicked panting this time. He kept his eyes tightly shut. It didn't make sense. Why shock the person who is complying? He swallowed, pushing the pain back to a manageable level. It took some effort, but he was able to think clearly again.

"Is it angry, he wonders," Nevid trilled. "Is it male?" The question was abrupt. Johns eyebrows furrowed in irritation. Maybe this was a game…

He shook his head sharply. Again he noted the hum before the pain came. It seemed more intense this time. His spine arched sharply. His jaw clenched down on the soft wood between his teeth. The pain was agonizing as it ripped through his body. John involuntarily whimpered as he thrashed; his body feeling the need to vocalize its distress. Then the electricity slowly stemmed into nothingness, leaving his limbs shaking and his body weak. He muttered curses around the wooden gag in his mouth. He took deep steadying breaths, groaning on the exhales.

_Get a grip John. This is a game. He wants to make you squirm._

If that was true, Nevid was succeeding. John's agonizing discomfort wouldn't let him sit still despite the weariness that was creeping up on him.

"Hm… it is confused, no doubt. Delightful. He likes confusion. Finds it comforting. But he wonders how long it will take for it to scream." Nevid mumbled in his ear. "Does it think it will take long?"

John stiffly nodded his head with as much animosity as he could muster. Like he was going to scream. He could at least control his emotions enough for that, no matter what Nevid wanted to throw at him.

"Let's see, shall we?"

John swallowed, braced his mind—

Pain! Pain! PAIN!

XXX


	4. XXX

XXX

Rodney paced back and forth. Shoved his hands in his pockets. Whipped them out again. Stopped pacing. Pulled out his pack. Found the scanner. Scanned the area. Again.

"Maybe…maybe he's been taken off world," Rodney finally said.

"The trail led off in the other direction," Ronon snapped.

"Yes, that's what they _wanted _you to think. Lead you off on a wild goose chase while they make a break for the gate."

"A wild _what_ chase?"

"A goose, it's a…bird. Anyway, the point is—"

"Who are 'they'?"

"Look, would you stop interrupting me? Does it really matter who they are?"

"Yes."

Rodney glared flatly at the other man. "It doesn't matter. The point is, he _isn't…_ well, dead."

"Of course not Rodney," Teyla said quietly, putting a comforting hand on his arm. "We are all frustrated."

Rodney sighed. He really wanted to grasp onto that concept; the one where Sheppard was _alive_. He didn't just want it, he _needed_ it. He needed his friend to be alive. The ramifications if he wasn't… were unthinkable. Unfathomable, even for his genius brain.

"Rocks," He suddenly snapped, clicking his fingers rapidly. "This planet has lots of natural caves, probably deep. Transmitters have been known to be blocked by thick rock deposits."

There was a moment of silence.

"I will talk to the locals. Perhaps they know of some caves," Teyla said firmly.

"How do we know they didn't do it?" Ronon challenged.

"Why would they have a reason to kidnap him?" Teyla shot back.

"Maybe it has to do with us taking the woman." Rodney suggested.

"They did not seem offended when I said that we would take her in. Many of them seemed relieved, but would not say so. I do not think they would go through the trouble of kidnapping him. It is…much too unlikely."

"Woolsey's going to talk to them anyway," Rodney interjected.

"Perhaps they can tell us of the caves in the area."

"I'm not waiting," Ronon stated. Rodney was inclined to agree. The longer they waited, the worse off Sheppard tended to be in situations like this, which came about more often they anyone cared to admit.

"Ok," he peeped quietly. Teyla nodded her agreement.

"We'll split up, starting at where he was last." Ronon was already walking.

"Is it wise to separate?" Rodney asked, full of concern.

"You and Teyla can stick together. I'll be fine," the bigger man said with a hint of a smile. There was no word to the contrary. In silent consent, Teyla and Rodney matched paces as they neared the clearing.

And so started the process they all dreaded in its familiarity: finding their kidnapped/injured/distressed teammate and bringing him home.

XXX

John found he couldn't sit upright anymore. Or rather, he couldn't support his upper torso anymore. Electric shock took a lot out of a person and he couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd eaten… John had given up on trying to project an air of strength. He needed to reserve it for the next "interrogation".

Only five questions had been asked. John had answered most of them truthfully. Nevid didn't seem to care. So the pain just continued for a good long while until the tormenter deemed it necessary to stop.

_Don't want it to die so soon…_

Then he'd been left in darkness. The light was shut off with a heavy clang, yielding him to the hungry shadows. John decidedly closed his eyes.

And there it was. The distinct poking at his consciousness thought. An investigative nudge along his mental barriers. Looking for cracks in his carefully constructed armor. This was the fourth time he'd felt this, John decided. Only the second time he'd recognized it while it was happening. The sensation seemed so much stronger this time. As though it was growing in strength as he grew in awareness.

And it was disturbing.

There _had_ to be a wraith nearby. Or maybe some wraith mutant. John wouldn't put it past this planet to have some mutated wraith _thing_ running around. And he wasn't dumb enough _not_ to discount Nevid as the culprit. But something seemed…_off_ about that theory. All of the wraith, or wraith-like creatures, he'd encountered so far were hostile. Nevid was just crazy. John didn't get the 'I'm-going-to-suck-the-life-out-of-you' vibe from the mad scientist guy. He did, however, get the 'I'm-going-to-creep-you-out' vibe. But that…that he could deal with. There wasn't an urgency that pulled at his focus like what happened when a wraith queen was bearing down on him with an outstretched hand.

This was a waiting game. John had never liked waiting games. Endurance tests. He got bored quickly. A man of action did not easily sit still for so long. But that wasn't to say he couldn't do it. Or rather, wouldn't do it. John _would_ do it. He would wait until his team came or until Nevid finally killed him.

John blinked in the darkness.

What was he enduring? What was he staving off until the others came?

Something he didn't want to think about…

"Indiana?" The whisper brushed past his ears. John jumped at the sudden noise. "Indiana Jones?" The voice was quiet and hesitant but distinctly female.

"Lana?" John rasped. His tongue felt swollen and clumsy. "You ok?"

A cold hand caressed his neck, tracing the burn mark from earlier. John flinched instinctively.

"Sorry…didn't mean to hurt you," she muttered.

"S'ok. Are your hands untied?"

She didn't answer.

"Lana?"

"The others called you something different. Indiana Jones isn't the name."

John frowned. "You remember that? You were kinda out of it."

"…remember everything. Remember you helping me."

John was silent for a few seconds. "John. My name's John."

"Thank you John, for trying to help. But you should not have helped." Her voice turned watery, like she was trying to hold back tears.

"Hey, I'd have done it over again if I had the chance," John insisted. "And we are still getting out of here, don't worry."

She was silent again. John shivered in the cold. Why did the bad guys always have to take his shirt?

_Because they like to make you suffer John,_ he answered himself. Suddenly, warmth draped across his midsection. It took him a few seconds to recognize the weight.

"Lana, what are you doing?"

"You are cold, 'm helping." She was sitting on his lap, facing him. With careful movements, she slowly leaned forward and pressed against his chest, laying her head on his shoulder. John swallowed nervously. The woman was burning up.

"Soon, you will not be cold. You will be warm, like me," she breathed into his ear.

"As nice…as nice as this is, Lana, you don't have to do this," John insisted. She just wrapped her arms around his torso. Oh this was awkward…

"You did not let go of me when he came. I will return the favor." She suddenly caressed his neck with her lips.

"Lana…" There was a tug at his mind. "Lana, get off. Don't help him out here."

"Help him?"

"By distracting me," John hissed. "That's what this is all about, isn't it?" Her lips had migrated down to his shoulders and across his collar bone. He did his best to ignore the twinges of pleasure that lurked in the back of his mind. "Get off me," he ordered in a stern voice.

The tugging grew harder. Nevid was trying to distract him to get into his head. That was the only logical reason to screw with him.

Her lips found his own and she played with his bottom lip. He spat in her face. "Get the heck off me!" He yelled. She froze against his body in shock.

"I…I am sorry," she muttered as she hastily slid off his lap and scurried off into the darkness. John could hear her sobbing and whimpering to herself. He muttered curses into the shadows. The tugging had quit; for now. And now he had a game plan of sorts; don't let Nevid inside his mind. A mental battle. He could do this.

_Come on guys,_ John sent a silent prayer to his team._ Don't leaving me hanging for too long this time…_


	5. XXXX

XXX

It was resisting. It was strong. The strength was tasty. Delectable throngs of mental muscle pushed back at him in a way that hadn't happened in many many years. Delightful. More games to be played this way. This was a wise choice. Maybe he wouldn't punish the woman. She'd chosen a good human to cling to. But she also ran from him. Ran away. Tried to reject him. It was foolish of her. He cannot be rejected.

Nevid let his head drop to the side. The world looked differently from this angle. The creature was askew now, in its unconscious glory. Nevid turned on the light and it came from the wall now, instead of the ceiling. Shining at the sideways alien in the chair. Nevid smiled and righted his head again. It was still sitting there, bathed in blinding light. Still slumped in exhaustion. A sheen of sweat covered its bare chest. Sweating in the cold again.

Nevid wondered what its blood tasted like. The wonder was strong. Far too strong. He leaned in close to the alien. Smelled the alien. Quickly, he pushed its head forward with one hand and ranked his nails across the back of its neck with the other. Three neat furrows in the soft skin. Furrows that quickly filled with crimson. Overflowed with crimson. It was struggling under his hand now. Grunting; in shock perhaps. Perhaps in fear. Perhaps in pain. Perhaps in all three. It muttered words at him. Did the words mean anything? Nevid didn't know. Perhaps they did. It uttered them with a particular vehemence so perhaps they were meant to frighten him. The words didn't frighten him.

Nevid stared for a moment at the blood that dribbled down the aliens back in thin rivers. Then he leaned down and sniffed it. Metallic. Much like the woman's blood. They looked alike as well. But the alien came from a different world. Therefore it was different.

He stuck his tongue to the blood. Licked it up. Savored it. The alien struggled under him. Grunting again. Speaking meaningless words again. Sounding foolish.

It was fully awake again. Time to play. Time to prod.

He smoothly slid a needle into the base of its skull.

It screamed.

XXX

John's eyes snapped open. He gasped. Something was wrapped around his chest, or so it seemed. It squeezed and he gasped again. His eyes were open but he wasn't seeing anything. He was merely trying to breathe.

Pain exploded against the side of his face. John tasted blood in his mouth. He pulled at the oxygen in the air and whipped his head about, trying to find the source of his pain. Panic made him struggle. Panic and confusion. The pain came again, to his face as before. John couldn't help the cry of pain. He couldn't help much of anything at the moment. He was scrambling enough to get his bearings. The image of Bambi on ice came to mind. A blow to the stomach pushed the image from his mind. A very unattractive sort of gurgling snort came from his mouth.

But then the onslaught of pain paused. John took the respite and used it to find air again. When he could properly breathe, he focused his gaze. Blood dribbled down into his left eye. His body sagged in weariness. The world around him was bright and sunny. The air was crisp and refreshing. John felt like he was in a big grassy bowl. The valley was close to the size of a football field, covered in shaggy grasses and wildflowers. A few trees peppered the space and a thick forest crowded the rim of the valley.

A fist smashed into his face. His head snapped to the side in a spray of blood. A pained grunt chased the crimson droplets into the green vegetation at his feet. John let his head loll forward. His eyes reached up, seeking the face of his tormenter. The man before him was big and bald and angry. A fierce fire burned in the man's eyes.

Nevid. It had to be. John's mind was scrambling to catch up with what was happening. From what he could surmise, Nevid had knocked him out and dragged him into sun. To do what? Beat the crap out of him? It seemed so.

The man snarled and brought his hand back. John's eyes widened as the blow landed on his face, snapping it to the side. He felt his skin splitting and the warmth of newly spilt blood. When he brought his head back around again, Nevid was holding a blade.

"Let's split it open…" the man muttered. "See what's inside."

The thin knife blade neared his body and John struggled to get away. Panic crowded his mind. "Wait, wait…what do you want?" he asked desperately.

"To see what's inside," Nevid answered, ignoring the pleas. The blade drew nearer. John watched in horror as it slowly pressed into the center of his chest and was drawn downwards. He cried out in pain as an inverted Y incision was carved out on his ribcage.

Suddenly, the man in front of him stopped as a ball of red energy exploded behind him. Nevid's eyes slowly went blank and the man slumped downward. John stared, wide-eyed, at the smoking hole in the back of his captors head.

"Sheppard!"

John's eyes snapped up. A familiar figure was running towards him. "Ronon?"

"You ok?" the runner asked as he ran up. John stared at him.

"I feel like crap," John said idly. "Where did you come from?"

Ronon sliced through the thick ropes that bound John to a tree that he hadn't noticed before. The ropes gave way with a snap and John fell forward on weak legs. Ronon's strong arms held him up.

"We need to get out of here," Ronon informed him.

"How did you find me?" John asked.

"Villagers told us where to find this guy." Ronon kicked the corpse before pulling John's arm around his shoulders and wrapping support around Sheppard's waist. John winced as newly forming bruises stretched. He suddenly realized just how weak he was as Ronon practically dragged him to the cover of the forest. Rodney and Teyla waited there with anxious eyes.

"John!" Teyla exclaimed as Ronon set him down at the base of a big tree. She was instantly at his side with a field bandage in hand. Rodney fidgeted at his feet, holding out various first aid supplies to the woman at his side. Teyla deftly swabbed the knife wound on his chest with clean water. John winced.

"We need to hurry," Ronon insisted.

"What's out there?" John demanded. As far as he knew, Nevid was solo. Apart from the woman. The woman whom he practically vowed to save. "The girl, where is she?"

"What girl? Why do you always find a girl?" Rodney complained.

"The crazy girl from the village," John explained. "She was taken with me. We're getting her out." He watched as Teyla pulled out a pack of aspirin and handed it to him with a canteen. He downed the pills gratefully.

"What, that girl?" Rodney shrieked.

"We're not going back for her," Ronon insisted.

"Yes we are," John insisted. He pushed himself upright, ignoring the pain.

"The woman who's head is on a pike?" Rodney challenged.

"Rodney!" Teyla shot him a dangerous look. John was taken aback.

"She's what?"

Teyla put a comforting hand on his arm. "She is dead, John. I am sorry."

John's eyebrows furrowed. Guilt washed over him. He'd promised her that they would make it out; _both _of them. And now she was dead.

"We have to go now," Ronon ordered. John nodded, his mind still on the dead woman. Ronon pulled him upright and yanked him along a faint game path. John stumbled along as best he could. Rodney and Teyla were both ahead of them. All three of his teammates looked worried. This finally struck John as odd.

"What's out there?" he asked. No one answered. In fact, no one acted as if they'd heard anything at all. "Hey! What are we running from?"

Rodney finally turned back with a scared expression on his face. "There are…_creatures_ in the forest," he explained.

"Creatures? What kind of creatures?" John absentmindedly shivered as a sudden wisp of cold air snaked across his bare chest.

"The deadly kind," Teyla said ominously.

John frowned. "Someone want to give me a gun?" No one answered but Ronon shoved his blaster into John's hands. They moved slightly faster now. A familiar feeling of cold dread and anxiety writhed in John's gut.

His legs suddenly gave out. It was a strangely unconscious action; as if his legs didn't bother telling John that they were beyond exhausted and merely collapsed on their own. John fell heavily onto his hands and knees before toppling ungracefully to the side.

"Get up Sheppard," Ronon ordered him. There was a faint irritation at the commanding tone the other man had taken but John dismissed it. Something had his team spooked and he didn't want to push them now with trivial things like chain of command.

"I'm working on it," John promised as he began the tiresome process of organizing his limbs beneath him. But his legs refused to hold weight.

"Come on Sheppard, stop slowing us down." Ronon had his arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. John licked his lips nervously.

"You're gonna have to help me out here," he finally admitted.

"We don't have time for this!" Rodney suddenly snapped. "Get moving Sheppard!"

"I said I was working on it," John snapped back. He reached up a hand to Ronon. The big man looked dubiously at him. Then slowly reached down.

Teyla was screaming. A high pitched scream of terror. It was so alarming that John nearly jumped up and ran to her. He looked over just in time to see a big black bear-like animal leap out of the trees. It roared defiantly. John brought the blaster around and fired. But the bear thing ignored the burning, smoking patch in its skin and turned to McKay. The scientist was screaming now, trying to pull his gun around. But he was too slow. The bear thing charged. In an instant, the animal and the scientist had disappeared into the trees. Rodney's screams grew distant until they were unnaturally and abruptly cut off.

It all happened within a matter of seconds.

John's eyes were wide with shock. His hands shook. He struggled to get upright.

"Help me up!" he snapped to the frozen Satedan.

"It is too late John," Teyla said coldly. "We must go now if we expect to get back to the gate."

"No we're going after him," John said automatically, still struggling to stand.

"You want to get us all killed, Sheppard?" Ronon challenged. John physically sat back and stared at the man; numbed by shock.

"What?" he managed to say.

"We need to go _now_," Ronon insisted firmly.

"Rodney is out there," John insisted right back.

"He is dead, John. We must go before we die as well," Teyla soothed. John blinked.

"I'm going after McKay," he said plainly. He used his hands to push himself up onto unsteady legs.

"I am so sorry John," Teyla said suddenly.

"What?" John asked. He completely missed the big man behind him who raised a fist. But he did notice the pain that enveloped him just moments before everything went black.


	6. XXXXX

John groaned awake. His head pounded. And his chest burned. Not to mention the all too familiar ache of bruises. Grogginess swamped his mind. He blinked lethargically and slowly attempted to stand.

Rodney.

Rodney was gone.

He started to jump up. A soft hand pushed him down.

"Be careful John, do not injure yourself," Teyla said quietly.

"What's going on?" John demanded.

"We are nearly to the stargate," she explained. Thick fog curled along the ground where he sat propped up against a solid rock wall. He searched her face. It was tear stained and…_vulnerable_ looking. He could count the number of times Teyla had looked vulnerable on one hand.

A stab of pain burrowed into the back of his head. It suddenly reminded him of…

"Why the heck did you knock me out?" John demanded.

"It was necessary John. You were in shock and we were under attack."

"Under attack? By who?"

"A race of creatures created by the man who held you captive." Teyla handed him the canteen of water. "The man must have injected you with some sort of drug. You would not cooperate when we were trying to help."

John frowned at her. The story didn't fit. But he _did_ feel groggy. "Sorry…"

"It is alright," She offered him a sad smile.

"Rodney," John started.

"He is gone," Teyla supplied. The smile faltered a moment before dropping completely. She looked like she was fighting to stay composed. John understood. The great weight of grief pushed heavily on his shoulders. And yet he still couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

A lump fixed itself in the back of his throat. He made an attempt to swallow it away. And failed.

"John," Teyla said softly. "We must move fast. The creatures are still out there. We may be sheltered for the moment but it won't be long until they can find our scent again." Awkwardness permeated her movements as she started to help him up. It wasn't an awkwardness born of embarrassment or unfamiliarity; it was the awkwardness of uncertainty. As if something had rattled her so badly that Teyla no longer knew what to do.

"Where's Ronon?" John asked quietly. He needed another person here to help. Tears instantly welled up in her eyes. A feeling of dread hit him like a kick in the gut. "What happened?"

Teyla pulled her hands to her face and covered her eyes. She was silent for several long moments. Then a shaky snivel peeped past her now shaking hands.

"Teyla?" John put a hand on her shoulder. "Teyla, where is Ronon?" As he asked the question, John instantly knew he was going to regret the answer. When she still didn't answer, he gently pulled her hands down. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her mouth was open in a silent sob. Eyes, red with weeping, gazed blindly at him, reliving some horrific moment. John's heart dropped.

"He's not coming back, is he?" John asked, not wanting to hear an answer. The question seemed to bring her back to the present.

"He…we were attacked several hours ago. He…lured the animals off. I left you here in the cave and went to search for him when he did not return," Teyla explained slowly; painfully. She reached blindly behind her and then slowly pushed something into his hands. It was bundle of shredded leather. Even mangled as it was, John recognized the former shape of the runner's big jacket. Ronon's big bloodstained jacket.

His mind was suddenly numb. It was a coping mechanism and he knew it. In the back of his mind, he registered the alarm that was buried under the pain in Teyla's eyes. The danger was still out there. And he still had a team member to get back home. Right now, he needed to function. Not that he wanted to. John _wanted_ not to feel numb. He wanted to grieve for…for _them_. But his militarily trained mind wouldn't let him. It locked down tightly on his emotions for the time being.

"Teyla, we need to get out of here," John said with a cool distance in his voice. He hated it.

Teyla set her jaw firmly and nodded. Together, they managed to get upright and shuffle out of the cave. The world outside was dark. A small but bright moon gave them some light and Teyla's flashlight helped as well. Even still, the forest around them was thick and unwelcoming. For a moment, they both hesitated before charging into the undergrowth.

They moved now with a frantic energy. The trees seemed to grab at them from all sides. Fog covered the ground up to their knees, hiding the roots and rocks that tripped up their feet. Several times, John stumbled onto his bruising knees, pulling Teyla down with him as often as not. She never said anything about it; merely helped him upright again. Neither of them spoke. Some deadly curse seemed to hover over the land. A terribly setting of horror. To speak would shatter the scene. And not in a good way. It would shatter the stillness and release some unseen force.

John pushed his weary body faster. Teyla responded in kind.

It was then that the fragile setting was obliterated.

An ugly gruntal howl pierced the air.

Beside him, Teyla stiffened. For a slit second. Before she shrieked.

"Run!"

Something in her tone of voice jolted his muscles into movement instantly. Adrenaline flooded his veins and chased away the lethargy that had filled his limbs. He bolted forward, taking Teyla's hand and dragging her with him. It was mere minutes before they stumbled into a clearing. _The_ clearing. The one in which their salvation sat glimmering in the light of the moon. The howling and roaring pursued them closely. John saw a shadowy shape in the trees.

"Teyla, give me the gun and go dial the gate!" he ordered her. She didn't hesitate to toss him the P90 and steer towards the DHD. John pulled up sharply and got down to one knee, forcing focus into his body. He tracked the movement of the creature in the forest. Steadied his breathing; his hands. Fired a spray of bullets into the vegetation. A pained animalistic scream fired back. The swiftly moving beast stopped cold. John didn't wait to see if it stayed down. He heard the sound of an engaging wormhole behind him. The sound of safety. The _promise _of safety. John was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to be secure. To be in a place where people weren't going to hurt him. Or his team. Teyla…

John's hands started to shake as he turned sharply. And stopped cold.

Teyla was screaming. He didn't know how he didn't hear it before now. Her body was completely parallel to the ground. Her white knuckled hands were secured in a death grip on the edge of the DHD. A massive black beast had its teeth and claws sunk into her legs and was trying desperately to yank her into the dark forest. John didn't hesitate. He would _not_ let this happen again. Blood spurted out everywhere, drenching the ground. But not all of it came from his teammate. His last teammate. Some of the blood came from the beast as his bullets found their marks in its body.

The burn in his throat told John he was yelling; screaming. Replacing the high pitched screams of the nearly unconscious woman. The beast was screaming too. Screeching in pain. John continued to fire the weapon in his hands until the clicking told him it was empty of bullets. But that was ok because the beast was twitching on the ground now. But it wasn't ok. Because Teyla's was crumpled on the ground under it, her eyes closed. John ran to her on wobbly legs. He scooped her up into his arms and stumbled to the gate.

John barely had the presence of mind to punch in the IDC code into Teyla's blood spattered transmitter before practically falling into the wormhole. When his feet hit the familiar hard ground of Atlantis, he slumped to the ground in a heap over Teyla. People were shouting all around him but he couldn't pay attention to them. All he could do was focus on the faint, fluttering pulse beneath his fingers; coming from the bloodied neck of the once powerful woman in his arms. All he could do was keep his willpower focused on that beating of the heart.

Willing it to keep going.


	7. XXXXXX

XXX

"Colonel Sheppard?"

John looked up sharply. One of the nurses was smiling kindly at him. She held a tray of food in her hands, which she placed on his bedside table. John nodded thanks then went back to staring at the pale woman in the bed next to him. Keller had been kind enough not to put her in isolation so he could stay next to her during his own infirmary stay.

Teyla had been lucky; Dr. Keller had said. She wasn't dead when, by all rights, she should have been. John didn't feel like rejoicing at the news. He didn't feel glad, like he _knew_ he should have felt. It was too empty in the infirmary right now. The tray on his bedside table shouldn't have been put there by a nurse. It should have been halfway picked clean by a gluttonous scientist before being shoved into his lap.

John felt his jaw tighten and he swiftly turned his head to look at the woman beside him. She was connected to a plethora of medical instruments. Her petite action packed body looked small and helpless. John's eyes drifted over to where her legs were supposed to be. But only one lump stretched out the length of the bed; under the blankets. The other ended short. Too short.

Nerve damage, that was excuse. Extensive nerve damage. More so then Keller could repair. It was just a pretty way of saying that her leg was barely attached to the rest of the body. That the fractured bone was the only thing keeping the leg with the rest of the body. That the leg was a dead useless thing.

The devastation didn't stop at an amputated leg. John supposed that he and his team were long overdue for disaster. Maybe all the times they'd avoided it had built up over the years until they could avoid it no longer and all the disaster just…unloaded in one fell swoop. One fell swoop that took the lives of two members of his team plus the legs of another. Legs and movement. The animal had fractured her spine. Teyla had an eighty-five percent chance of _never_ feeling anything below her neck, ever again. She had a fifteen percent chance of ever holding her son again.

And what injuries did he suffer? John was malnourished, had electrical burns, a few cracked ribs, a handful of bruises, and a slit up his chest. He was going to be discharged in a matter of days. He needed no physical therapy or oodles of time off.

Survivor's guilt. That's what it was called. Guilt on top of overwhelming sadness…sorrow. It was too much to bear. The chaplain had been in twice to talk with John. The initial visit had come out of the blue. It was unexpected and didn't seem to fit. But, secretly, he was relieved. John wanted to hear something that he knew had some truth to it. The man, Thomas, had spoken peaceful words. He'd offered his ears to listen, when John wanted to unload. But John wasn't ready to let himself off the hook. He wasn't ready to ease his own suffering.

Because…because he was the one who was supposed to sacrifice himself for his team. He was the team leader. So why was he the one who was alive and kicking? Why couldn't he have taken Rodney's place? Or Ronon's? Or both? Why couldn't he have been the one to dial the gate, and save Teyla from the beast?

John squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. This line of thinking was dangerous. It led to places he couldn't allow himself to go; no matter how badly his guilt demanded to be appeased.

He emptied his mind at the rhythmic murmur of medical equipment. Pushed away all thoughts that sought to invade his thinking. Some pushed back. Pushed _hard_. John frowned outwardly. He shoved again at his mental defenses, forcing them into place. Thoughts came again at him. A medicated haze suddenly loomed up in his mind and the mental attack redoubled in force.

"_It is doing well, she thinks."_

A soft spoken voice cut into his mind like a knife. The words were not spoken to him; rather they were spoken to a male nurse by another female nurse at the other end of the infirmary. The guy kept glancing over at him.

"What did you say?" John demanded. They both looked at him in earnest now.

"Did you need something Colonel?" the woman asked kindly.

"What did you just say, just now?"

The woman's face went blank for a moment. Then she turned to her companion with something close to panic in her eyes.

"You are hearing things, my friend," the man offered. John frowned but nodded.

Suspicion picked at him. Was it possible…

John focused on the walls around him. Was it possible that this wasn't real? The woman, Lana, was babbling about things that weren't supposed to happen, when he first met her. Could she have been forced to live through hallucinations? It was a stretch; ridiculous. But Nevid…Nevid didn't sound right.

John licked his lips. Something about Nevid in the clearing didn't fit. As if…as if someone were trying to mimic something without really knowing what that something was. And Ronon! Ronon wasn't acting right either! Teyla _did_ say that John was drugged but what if that wasn't really Teyla?

The walls of the Atlantis infirmary went dark for a moment. Just a split second. John blinked. Stared harder. The walls blinked back; going black for a prolonged second. His stomach twisted.

This was fake.

John slowly sat up. The two nurses watched him intently.

"This isn't real," he murmured. As he said the words, John noticed a plethora of things that didn't seem to fit in the setting. The air suddenly smelled musty and old. It was colder in here then it should have been. He looked over at Teyla…who really wasn't Teyla. Her form wavered slightly, like a glitching hologram.

John gasped. It felt like someone just dumped a bucket of ice cold water over his head. The world around him fluttered and swam before his eyes. Nausea gripped his stomach. Someone hovered around his head; sometimes looking like the male nurse, sometimes looking like a shadowy figure. John swung his fist out at it. That someone's fist returned the sentiment and sent John into darkness.

XXX

John awoke to someone humming in a broken off-key way. The sound was eerie. Haunting. He opened his eyes and was met with near darkness. Cold hard stone was beneath him. He was lying in an awkward position on the floor. A rusty metal chair was knocked on its side next to him, bathed in a circle of bright light.

A hand touched his knee. John jerked away from it and into the light. He suddenly realized that his hands weren't bound.

"John?" It was Lana's voice but it seemed different. More…crazy, somehow? She crawled into the light next to him. Her eyes were wide and a bit hysterical and her skin was sallow in color. "John, you must drink something," she insisted. He just stared at her. Truth be told, his mouth was dry and tacky. "The world outside…it hurts. It hurts your body," Lana said quietly. "You must drink and regain your strength." She held out a small metal cup towards him.

"Get away from me," John hissed. He pushed himself backwards a few inches to add emphasis to his point.

"Must…must get it to drink," Lana suddenly said to herself. "He won't be happy if it doesn't drink." She set her small jaw and glared at the ground.

"Don't do what he says, Lana." John ordered firmly. It was worth a shot. Her eyes shot over to him and widened a bit more, if such a thing were possible.

"Mustn't listen to you," she argued. John opened his mouth to argue back when suddenly her knee was in his groin and pressing hard. Searing agony ripped his breath away and he curled into himself. Lana ruthlessly gripped a handful of his hair and yanked his head up and back. The metal cup was pressed forcibly to his lips. John kept his jaw firmly clenched. She released his head and punched him squarely in the nose. The cartilage snapped easily. Her iron grasp moved to his jaw. John wrenched his head backwards. Lana growled in frustration. Suddenly, there was another pair of hands holding his head.

"It should stop fighting, not good for its health." Nevid's voice hissed low in his ear. Lana's hands pried open his jaws and the liquid was forced into his mouth. It was hot and bitter on his tongue. They pushed his mouth shut and she put a hand over his lips to keep him spitting anything back out. John tried to breathe past the broken nose but it was agony. As was holding a mouthful of whatever they'd given him as it was starting to burn. John struggled and bucked under them for as long as possibly could but time won out. He reluctantly swallowed.

The fluid hit his stomach like a sack of bricks and he recoiled away from the sensation. The hands holding him let him go. John curled into a ball, gasping and shaking.

But then something curious happened. The thirst started to wane. And the hunger in his gut was less intense. His body started to relax. It started to go numb. Forcibly easing the tension in his limbs.

Crap. This wasn't natural. John knew he was screwed. If only his team were still—

John blinked. His team was alive. If the last few days had been an illusion then his team was still out there looking for him!

Relief flooded his system. It was so intense, it almost hurt.

Drowsiness pulled at his eyelids. The broken, tuneless humming started again. John let his body slump and his eyes close. They were still there. Still searching. Hope was alive and kicking. Or rather, it was alive and being kicked _at_.


	8. XXXXXXX

Teyla pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. An ache gnawed at the forefront of her skull. The pain had started sometime the day before yesterday as a little annoying blip of a headache and had steadily grown into the monster it was now.

"You ok?" Ronon asked from across the table. She shook her head dumbly. She was very much _not_ ok. Five long days had passed since John had been taken. They'd turned the small village upside down searching for him. The elders of the village had graciously offered them a room at the village center for a base of operations, as it were. It seemed as though a good fifth of the population of Atlantis was here, searching for John. Teyla knew that this wasn't so but it felt better to think their numbers were larger. It seemed to give John a better chance. Anyway, Woolsey was here, heading up the search and rescue teams. They had six teams of four people plus a native guide. Three teams were out in the surrounding area, searching along a grid pattern. A med team stood ready in near a jumper. The other three teams were told to rest for a period of six hours before they would switch out with the others.

The only reason they were still searching is because Rodney had seen, for the briefest of minutes, the blip of a transmitter. It flashed for mere seconds but it was enough to convince him that Sheppard was still alive. The villagers gave them some small amount of hope as well. It was the general theory of the village that Sheppard had been taken by _him_, a nameless menace that supposedly preyed on the villagers. From the scant information about the menace, they gathered that there was more than a good chance that John was alive. This information bolstered their collective resolve to find him.

But doubt had begun to cloud her thinking. Teyla was beginning to think that it was impossible to find him.

A plate clanked down in front of her. It was loaded with bread, vegetables, and some sort of meat that the locals provided. She stared at it.

"You really need to eat something Teyla," Rodney informed her as he balanced his much fuller plate in his hands while he sat down next to her. Ronon had left her at some point, presumably to get his own food. Teyla offered Rodney a small smile.

"Thank you Rodney." She picked at the food, her hunger not as great as it should have been. She was itching to get back out and search again. Ronon sat down across from her again and tossed her a small packet that contained two small pills.

"Keller wants you to take those," he informed her. Teyla sighed. She didn't like taking pain medication. But her head _was_ killing her so she begrudgingly ripped open the little packet and downed the pills. "Heads up, Woolsey's coming," Ronon suddenly warned.

"How are you all doing?" Woolsey appeared at the head of the table. He had a data pad clutched in his hands and worry lines creased his face.

"Oh just peachy thanks," Rodney quipped dryly.

"Rodney…" Teyla hissed. She understood his poor attitude but taking it out on the one man who was running this whole operation was not the thing to do.

"We're ready to get back out there," Ronon offered. Woolsey hesitated.

"You need to eat first; rest," he told them. The order carried more weight than it should have. As if, for some reason, they might be even more tempted to ignore it than usual.

She wasn't the only one to pick up on this. "Why? What happened?" Rodney demanded. Again, Woolsey hesitated. He was thinking through the situation.

"Please, Mr. Woolsey, tell us what happened," Teyla asked calmly. It took all she had to keep herself placid outwardly. Inwardly, she was as tense as piece of steel. The man sighed heavily.

"We found his TAC vest."

Ronon was on his feet in an instant. "Where?"

Mr. Woolsey pulled out a map with a grid pattern on it. He pointed to a square that was several miles from the village. "Right there."

Ronon was already moving out the door. Rodney was hurrying to catch up, shrugging into his vest. Teyla was on her feet and moving to follow suit when Woolsey caught her arm.

"Teyla, I think you should stay behind," he said.

"What?" She couldn't understand why he said that. Sure, she was tired but that was nothing compared to John's need to be found.

"When is the last time you saw your son?" he asked, full of concern. She was taken aback.

"My son is with his father," she said coolly.

"Teyla, you're a mother now. Your son needs you and we have enough people to cover here," Woolsey said carefully. Teyla blinked.

"You do not think we will find him," she finally said. Her stomach squirmed. The man's face dropped. She had guessed correctly.

"I think you can take a day off and go see your son," Woolsey said carefully. Teyla felt her eyebrow arch upwards.

"I will go see my son when John is safe," she snapped. Woolsey studied her face for a moment the nodded.

"Of course. Stay safe out there. We still don't know anything about this village boogieman."

"Always," Teyla promised. She pulled free of his grasp and turned sharply for the door.

They would find him. She simply did not believe he was dead. How could he be?

Yes. They would find him.

XXX

John fell to his knees. He felt the skin on them split from the force of the blow. But he ignored the pain and pushed himself up again. Had to keep running. It wasn't safe out here in the open. He had his sights set on a small cluster of dead looking trees in the distance. Maybe a mile away. It was hard to tell in the desert-like terrain. It might be more or less. He was hoping less. John wanted nothing more right now then to collapse.

But it wasn't _safe_ out here. Out here, creatures came and sucked on your life energy. Not wraith, not even iratus bugs. Some cousin of the creatures' maybe. But this one had wings. It hunted from the sky. John _had_ started this little trip with five other people, natives from this planet. He was the only one left. Two turned back. Three died screaming bloody murder until they either died or were carried high enough that the others couldn't hear them anymore.

But at least his team was safe. They probably weren't back on Atlantis anymore; probably because of him. They were probably looking for him. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. John needed some hope to grasp onto.

Two weeks. He'd been on his own for two weeks now. He had enough supplies to stretch it out for another week at the most. Food wasn't a problem. There was an edible sort of bush that grew everywhere on this planet. No, it was water that he pulled along behind him on his little sled. Gallons of it. It would have been easier to manage if the horse that _had_ been pulling it hadn't gotten dragged off by the creatures.

John realized he had stopped again. It had taken longer than he cared to admit to realize this. He bit his dried, cracked lip and readjusted the straps of his self-made harness. The worn cloth strips dug into his skin, rubbing past his shirt and raising swollen blisters. He grit his teeth and swallowed the whimper of pain as he pulled forward again.

Not far now. Not far…

Then sun was hidden behind clouds; a blessing. John didn't know what he would have done in the baking sunlight. Probably die. He only ever seemed to have two choices lately; die or bare the pain. Bare the pain and put one foot in front of the other. And hope that civilization was just around the corner. Which it never was. John couldn't help but feel like he was the only man alive out here, in the wilderness. There were no quaint moisture farms or seedy desert towns with retired Jedi living in them. It was just him and the life sucking demon vultures.

Loneliness picked at him. It was a weight that was heavier then the water behind him.

John growled against the darkness looming up within his psyche. He didn't want to do that again; let the darkness take over. It had gotten his last companion killed. John gave in and his last friend had died.

He blinked and suddenly realized that he was in the shadow of a big dry tree trunk. So soon… he didn't question it, just let the straps slip from his abused shoulders with an unconscious sigh of relief. But he still didn't stop. He searched the small patch of trees for any branches that could be of use. He didn't light them on fire; that would have been stupid. Instead, he created a lean-to of sorts against the largest trunk. It wasn't meant to shield him from the element, just from the poor eyesight of the predators above. His movements were automatic; well rehearsed. The shelter was erected in minutes.

Then, only then, did John crawl under it and allow his body be still. He let his eyelids close. Weariness stole him away instantly and he was soon oblivious to the world around him.


	9. XXXXXXXX

Exhaustion tugged at their limbs. Their footsteps were heavy and clumsy in the darkness. Disappointment hung over their heads like a cloud. The hope that had been bolstered by the finding of the TAC vest had long since died. It was beyond dead, actually. It was dead, buried, and resurrected as a creepifying zombie out for its twisted revenge.

They never saw the vest. Never saw the state it was in. They'd just assumed it was all intact and perfect and everything. What if it hadn't been? What if it was ripped to bloody shreds? What would be the state of an occupant in said shredded and bloody vest?

Rodney was getting hysterical. He could feel it. But really, who wouldn't in his position? His team leader, probably his best friend, was out there, possibly dead, and they couldn't find him. Rodney couldn't use his technical prowess and whip out some genius scientific answer because there was none. John was simply gone. No amount of electronics or mathematical solutions were going to find him. Nothing but grunt work was going to do the trick. Physically searching behind every single tree.

He wasn't good at this physical stuff. It made him feel inadequate. But he did it anyway because Rodney knew the guilt of _not_ searching for his friend would be worse than the physical pain of it now.

This is what drove him through the thick black forest, despite the looming despair.

Rodney suddenly tripped over fell onto his hands and knees. A bitter curse slipped out of his mouth.

"Rodney? Are you alright?" Teyla was at his side in an instant, helping him up.

Rodney shrugged out of her helping hand and struggled back to his feet on his own. "I'm fine," he snapped. She didn't respond to his gruff tone.

"Someone's coming," Ronon suddenly warned in the darkness. Rodney swept the area with his flashlight. Other small circles of light appeared in the night.

"Dr. McKay! Teyla, Ronon!" Major Lorne's voice came from the behind one of the lights. Three flashlights were brought around simultaneously and lit up the faces of several men and women from Atlantis.

"What do you want Major?" Rodney growled.

"We're here to relieve you," Lorne informed him. Rodney felt his shoulders sag at the thought of food and a warm bed to snuggle into. Teyla's firm stance beside him told him that she wasn't about to give up this search for mere creature comforts. Ronon sure as heck wasn't.

"We're fine," Rodney insisted, acting as spokesperson for the other two who made no protest at his words

"That wasn't a suggestion, Doc," Lorne insisted right back. "Woolsey wants you to rest for a few hours."

"Why didn't he just call us on the radio?" Rodney demanded.

"Because he figured you'd just ignore him."

"He was right," Ronon grumbled. Lorne put on a sour face.

"Look, Woolsey gave me permission to stun you guys and drag you back if I had to," he admitted. "It's been eight hours since you've been out here. Let us take it for a few hours."

McKay felt his face twitch. Ronon had already turned and started walking again. Teyla seemed poised to do the same. Lorne's sour look deepened.

"It's an order," he said carefully. Ronon didn't stop. Teyla hesitated. Rodney took three decisive steps forward so he could properly get in Lornes face to tell him off. He was midway through his second step when the ground suddenly dropped out from under him.

Rodney screamed in terror as he plunged downward, arms and legs flailing… before coming to an abrupt and uncomfortable stop. It took a moment for him to stop shrieking but when he did stop, Rodney realized that he hadn't fallen very far. His upper torso was wedged into a smallish hole in the ground; his feet swinging freely somewhere beneath him, in some dark pit…where alien bugs and creepers lived…and waited for unsuspecting scientists…

Rodney screamed again.

"McKay!" Ronon's voice brought him back to reality. "Shut up, your fine."

McKay sputtered for a few moments, not quite sure if he was fine or not yet. "I'm stuck!" he squealed. He truly was. His arms had managed to get pinned to his sides somehow and he was hopelessly wedged into the hole. Several pairs of arms crowded around him, pushing and pulling and prying. Rodney cursed and squirmed.

Honestly, how long does it take to get someone out of a hole? These morons knew nothing…

Suddenly, he was falling again, in a shower of dirt. The fall wasn't long and the ground wasn't rock hard when he finally hit it. Regardless, it still knocked the wind out of him so he couldn't quite yell out warning to those who swarmed the top of the hole in alarm. The ground beneath those up top crumbled. It was all he could do to cover his head in time.

For several long minutes, the scene was one of mass confusion and falling dirt clods. When the dust finally settled, so to speak, and Rodney was able to get a good look at their surroundings with his flashlight, he realized something; this was a tunnel. It was clearly a manmade thing that stretched out for several yards in front of him before turning at a sharp angle.

He stared at it for a good two minutes before the inklings of an idea timidly formed. Tunnels could be made of rock. Rocks blocked signals. Rocks hid kidnapped military commanders.

Tunnels were often connected to one another.

"This is it…" he muttered to no one in particular. "This is it.

XXX

He didn't want to wake up. It was safe and peaceful in that place in-between waking and dreaming. But he had to wake up. Had to keep going.

John froze.

Something had woken him. Some creature.

Adrenaline shot into his system, accompanied by a cold terror that settled deep into his psyche. John slowly opened one eye and then the other. Old dead branches formed a thin barrier between him and a shuffling red and black creature. The thing was freakin' ugly. It had a head that looked like a bird skull but with leathery scales on it and long curved teeth for hanging onto things. It also had freakishly strong talons and nice neat clawed wingtips. Once this thing had you, ain't nothing was prying you away.

John tried desperately to stop the shaking in his hands by slowly and carefully wrapping them around the hilt of his knife; the only weapon he had left. The vulture thing scuffled along the dry ground, head raised as it sniffed around. It hadn't seen him yet. If it had, John wouldn't be alive right now. The only really hope he had left was that it _wouldn't_ see him and just fly off. But the creatures weren't stupid. This one smelled his scent that was all over the place; especially his water sled.

John's eyes flicked over to his water supply and his heart stalled. Three more creatures hopped around it, their curious squawking sending spikes of fear into his mind. One of the creatures suddenly tore its talon across one of the water bottles. The plastic tore easily and precious water bubbled out onto the dry thirsty ground. John's eyes widened in panic. He wasn't quite sure what caused him the most panic; seeing death on legs so near to him or seeing his liquid life being spilled out onto the dirt. Either way, panic clouded his mind. In that moment, John felt more alone that he'd ever remembered feeling before. Alone and terrified.

His mind felt like it was wide open as all was forgotten except the most basic instincts; fight or flight. Or acceptance. Accept the fact that he was so totally screwed. Actually, his mind was quite accepting of _anything_ at this point in time. Absolutely friggin anything.

The horrible happened. The nearest creature seemed to either hear his thoughts or his noisy panicked breathing. Either way, it turned to pinpoint his exact location with piercing red eyes. With a shriek of animalistic joy, the thing lurched towards him. John was too frozen with fear to react in time. The creature burst through the wooden barrier, claws extended.

Pain sliced into his chest and belly first and then into his shoulders as the creature attached itself to his body. Bile shot into his mouth, pushed up by the scream of horror. He spat it into the creatures face as it closed in. Curved teeth hooked deeply into his neck. A soft fleshy lump suctioned to his flesh.

Then it started sucking; literally sucking. John could feel the pull on his skin. But then the mind blowing pain came and he couldn't feel much of anything else. It was somehow worse than a wraith feeding but maybe only because of the cold horror that surrounded this particular event.

John screamed until something in his mind snapped and darkness took him.

XXX

A/N: Guess who we get to actually see next chapter? Nevid!


	10. XXXXXXXXX

**A/N: So I only got like one review for the last chapter. I'm not trying to sound all indignant or anything but that was a pivotal chapter and I usually get more feedback from regular reviewers which makes me think that maybe you didn't get the story alert... Now, I say all that to say this, make sure you've read the last chapter before you read this one. I realize sometimes screws up in the story alerts department so…yeah. Make sure you read the last chapter…**

XXX

Nevid stroked the side of its head. His now. New home. Lots of space if he dug deep enough. Dug through the memories. Delicious memories, each one. Thick and juicy, fun to play in. Lots of raw emotion that didn't get to see the light of day. Silly man to keep such emotion locked tight. Where's the fun in that?

Nevid would have fun. The woman wasn't so much fun anymore. Simpleton. No fun memories. Lots of emotion with no memories to cover them. Boring. Bland. Left a dull flavor.

Hm. Flavor.

It twitched. Shifted. Was waking. Nevid almost panicked. It would awake and panic and make noise. Lots of noise. Doesn't like him in its head. Will be frightened. Will make noise. That won't be good. There were other aliens nearby. They would hear and they would come. And it would be annoying.

Nevid left his alien on the ground. Rummaged around. Found some fun things. Took them to his alien. A gag would keep out the noise. Cloth in its mouth. Stifle the noise.

Hm. Flavor.

Would it taste the same as before? Nevid stuck out his tongue and licked up the moisture on its forehead. He set his teeth and analyzed. Still the same. Would that then mean that the alien was the same? Did he have another in his head that Nevid didn't know about? Perhaps, perhaps not.

Wouldn't it be fun to figure out?

Yes. It would indeed.

XXX

John jerked awake. His body convulsed into a hard surface. Breathing suddenly became a difficult task. Pain stabbed into his stomach and neck simultaneously. But it was wrong. It…it was…wro—

_It is being foolish. Foolish alien. _

John frowned then hissed in discomfort when his nose ached unbearably. It—

Someone was sitting next to him. John shoved himself sideways, away from the warm body. Then his own body froze. All on its own. A stab of pain pierced the nerve cluster behind his eyes. He whimpered into…into a…what? No. Something was…his mouth was…full.

What?

John blinked furiously. Something suddenly appeared next to him. Just…out of the… black. It…warm? _What?_

"We knew you'd open up. Open up real big." A soft voice muttered in his ear. His heart raced in excitement. His heart? No. Well, yes. What? Something else was thinking…_feeling_.

_Fun fun._

"…mphna…" he mumbled into the wad of something in his mouth. Nevid was…_here_. The creature was…was in… John shuddered, he couldn't stick with anything; any thoughts.

No. No! He was stro—

_Don't struggle. He likes it here. Doesn't want it to be damaged._

John screamed into the gag. He was _stronger_ than—

"Shhh shh, don't make noise. We don't like such loud noises," a familiar woman's voice said calmly. A soft hand trailed down his face. John scowled deeply and jerked away from it. He couldn't catch his breath…

Lips. On his lips. Cold, rough lips that mashed onto his mouth. John growled and struck out blindly. Sick little b—

A sickening sense of euphoria swept through his body, making it buzz. It shocked him. But it wasn't _his_… But it was. It was his…not…_its._

John snapped his head back, as if he could physically reclaim it. He smacked it against the rough stone wall, hard enough to send shafts of pain shooting down his neck. For a moment, his mind went blank. Completely and utterly blank.

Before the cackling laughter filled his thinking. Before something else fought for his brain space. Before John felt like the worst possible thing had happened to him. Someone, some_thing_, had attacked in the most invasive way… And all he could do was scream muted screams. Screams that he was entirely sure weren't all in his head…

XXX

Teyla hugged her weapon to her chest, sweeping her flashlight back and forth; lighting up the shadows of the tunnel. The others were beside and behind her, doing the same. Rodney had a death grip on the life signs detector as he stumbled along. No one said anything. They were all waiting for Rodney.

So close…

"Got it!" Rodney shrieked. The sound echoed down the tunnel. But no one cared about that. All attention was suddenly focused on the detector. More specifically, on the little dot that was isolated from the tight cluster of other little dots. Thank God.

The tension in the air was palpable. Emotions were one big stormy mess. But Teyla was hopeful. They'd never come this close and had something horrible happen. They always found John after this point. The climax had been breached; it was all downhill from here. In a moment of dark humor, Teyla had to laugh at the fact that she had the process of finding John down to a science, a neat little formula; so often had he gone missing.

They were nearing a bend in the tunnel. A sickly orange light spilled around the corner. Ronon, who had taken point, held up a fist and dropped to one knee. Those behind him tensed. The big man quickly peered around the corner once, then again with gun raised. The second time he eased forward on his toes. Teyla and two other marines followed closely. She could hear the others behind her. They rounded the corner and the tunnel opened up into a largish room carved out of the rocky earth. They fanned out in the room, which was empty of life. A few odds and ends were scattered around the area, proving that it was occupied. Strings of orange lights lined the ceiling.

"Clear," someone snapped. The statement was answered with duplicate statements from down the line of marines. Teyla scanned the area. A hole had been punched in the far wall of the small cavern. It was _just_ big enough for a man to crawl through. She strode towards it and shined a light through the hole. The hole opened up into blackness.

"Rodney." Teyla motioned the scientist over.

"Yes, he's in there," Rodney snapped smartly, eyes still glued to the life signs detector. She didn't hesitate to climb through the hole, gun extended. Quite suddenly, all she wanted to do was see him; to see with her own eyes that he was alive.

The cavern beyond the hole was pitch-black and ice cold. She swept her flashlight beam across the space. Her light found the rough hewn back wall of solid rock and the strange machine with wires and metal plates in the corner. She found a metal chair on the floor and her light caught sight of a chain and metal collar that was bolted to the wall.

Then she saw him.

"He is here!" she yelled over her shoulder before running to his side. John was curled into a tight ball, shivering hard enough to be seen from across the room. His skin was pale, when she could see it past the bruises and dirt. His hair was even more tousled than normal. "John?" She laid a hand on his quivering shoulder. "It's Teyla, can you hear me?" He stopped shaking for a brief moment. She thought he was muttering something and she leaned down to hear it.

"…mm…no. No no no. Teyla—tt…Teyla…"

"I am here John." Her weapon clattered to the ground and she put both hands on his shoulders, pushing them back in effort to get him to uncurl. John lifted his head and stared at her with bloodshot eyes. His jaw was clenched and his head shook.

"Teyla…" he held her gaze for a moment before his eyes rolled back into his head and a sick grin picked up the corners of his lips. Then he suddenly snapped his head back against the wall. He stared at her again. "Teyla, shoot me," he growled. His voice was dead serious. "Shoot me now."

Teyla just stared. The man before her curled back into himself, muttering and laughing hysterically. Teyla wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sharing her warmth as the medical team finally squirmed through the hole. "Hold on John," she muttered into his ear. "Just hold on."


	11. XXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Yes yes yes! I know! I'm so so sorry!! I severely underestimated the difficulty of this story! All I can say is YIKES! This is a tough sucker…

So, here is a super long chapter (for me anyway) to try and make up for being so horribly and unforgivably late. Although, I must say now that this might happen again. I am really wrestling to figure out where this thing is going. So, apologies ahead of time for the next big absence.

XXX

Rodney stared at his friends shivering form. His _constantly_ shivering form. Seriously, how long could a man shiver? Sheppard wasn't even cold. His body temperature was normal; his skin was warm to the touch. But his body wouldn't stop quivering. It wasn't all out shaking, per say, just…quivering. Rodney put a glass of juice on John's chest earlier, the liquid wouldn't stop rippling.

That wasn't the most disturbing thing either. Neither was the big black and blue bruise that covered his face like a poorly drawn butterfly or the sickly pallor to his skin that only got worse as the day went on or the plethora of tubes that stuck out of John's body. No, it was the staring. Sheppard wouldn't stop staring at the ceiling. Occasionally, he blinked. But it was easy to miss and then it seemed like he didn't blink at all. Rodney had to watch him for a solid five minutes before he caught Sheppard blinking. If you tried hard enough, you could distract him from the ceiling. With enough yelling and flying spittle, you could get a quick glance in your direction. Which is how they knew he wasn't in a coma. Rodney tried to get Teyla to kiss him yesterday, to see what would happen. She didn't do it. Of course, it didn't help that Kanan was in the room at the time.

Sheppard suddenly slumped into the bed. His body stilled, his eyes closed. Rodney wasn't really worried. This happened at least twice a day. The continuous shaking drained him after a while and the man simply passed out from sheer exhaustion. Keller took advantage of the moments of stillness. Apparently, it's rather difficult to stick shaking people with needles.

"He's out," Rodney yelled over his shoulder to whoever was standing close by. He hated the feeling of routine that there was in the statement. He hated that they couldn't figure out why John was so screwed up. He hated that they couldn't figure out why his brain activity had nearly doubled. Or why he wasn't talking to them but was not-so-obviously aware of his surroundings. Because yes, he was aware of his surroundings. You could just tell by looking at him, Sheppard was responsive. But he was ignoring them. Rodney knew what Sheppard looked like when he was ignoring people. This was _almost_ amusing. If the look hadn't been so intense.

Why didn't they give him a sedative so that he didn't shake himself to death? Because there was a foreign substance in his bloodstream. Foreign. Unknown. Something that, no matter how many hours Jennifer put in, remained unidentified.

Rodney stood up and stretched his back out as nurses worked busily around Sheppard's form. He wandered over to Jennifer, who had an eye glued to the microscope. Rodney put a comforting hand on the small of her back.

"Hey, getting anywhere?" he asked. Jennifer rolled her spine back and stared sideways at him.

"No," she said wearily. "I don't even know where to start. I mean, this isn't like anything we've ever encountered before. It doesn't even behave remotely like any virus or bacteria or anything." She sighed and leaned her head back on his shoulder.

"Well…um…you'll figure it out. I have faith in you," Rodney assured her.

"Thanks Rodney," Keller said around another sigh.

Jennifer collected herself again and refocused on the microscope. Rodney nodded in silent acknowledgment of the situation, mostly to himself. He glanced over at John. A pair of nurses had pulled a privacy curtain around his bed which was code for 'we're doing something that you don't want to be scarred for life from seeing, Dr. McKay'. He humphed. Food. Food was a good idea. He couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd eaten anything. Rodney frowned, suddenly realizing exactly how hungry he was. He shot one last glance towards Sheppard's general direction before trotting down to the mess hall.

Twenty minutes later, Rodney was back by John's side. He stared intently at the pilot. Sheppard was staring intently at the ceiling. Why did the man always have to do this to them? Why did he always get himself bedridden like this? Idiotic, self sacrificing, inconsiderate flyboy… Did John realize how much they were worried about him? Did he grasp the fact that they hardly left his bedside? And yet Sheppard didn't even acknowledge his presence. The stare turned into a glare. Rodney felt his anger rising.

"Would you stop ignoring me?" he suddenly snapped. "Look, just because you're injured and lying helpless in a bed doesn't mean you get to abandon your manners! We'll all worried sick because you won't take a few minutes to talk to us! I mean, honestly, what are you thinking? Would you think about how _we're_ feeling for a few seconds? And don't play the 'I'm in a coma' card here. I _know_ you can hear me. _And_ respond." Rodney realized his voice had steadily grown in volume towards the end of his rant but he didn't care; he needed to vent. "Stupid, idiotic, inconsiderate flyboy…" he muttered. Rodney turned away from the man on the bed for a few seconds; needing physically look at something else for a few moments to calm down. When he looked back at John, his heart nearly stopped.

Sheppard was staring at him. The man's bruised face was scrunched up in pain or concentration or both, but he was looking at Rodney. John's hands were balled into shaking fists.

"Sheppard?"

"…'m sorry…" John mumbled through clenched teeth. "Rodney, 'm sorry…can't…can't talk." He gasped the words as if it were taking everything within him to do it.

"Why? Why can't you talk?" Rodney demanded. "Come on, Sheppard; give me something else to go on." John's stare grew more intense, and slightly hysterical.

"He's…strong…Nevid. Nevid is…trying to…get out…Can't talk… gotta concentrate." John growled the words. Then, in an instant, his demeanor changed. Sheppard's face smoothed out and his eyes grew a little glassy. A sickly grin picked up the corners of his mouth. Rodney shivered as cold chill snaked down his spine and into his gut. This was _not_ Sheppard. Sheppard did not act like a psychopath. But then, as abruptly as the change took over, Sheppard's face reverted back to its original state. His eyes were clenched shut and his body was shaking again. Rodney felt his mouth fall open.

"Oh my…"

"Rodney?" Jennifer came up behind him. "Were you saying something?"

"Sheppard…Sheppard was awake," Rodney stuttered. "He's…oh… oh crap!"

"Rodney, what's going on? Who were you talking to?"

It suddenly clicked. Rodney didn't know why it didn't click earlier but it clicked now. "Increased brain activity."

"What? Rodney, you aren't making sense!" Jennifer pulled his face around.

Rodney's fingers were snapping. An 'I'm-figuring-this-out' smile snuck up on his face. "Increased brain activity! There's another consciousness inside his head!"

"Another consciousness…" Keller looked dubious.

"Yes yes yes! It fits! He said that someone else was trying to get out. That makes sense now… I _knew_ he was ignoring something…"

"Wait, slow down. He spoke to you? When did this happen?"

"Didn't I tell you? Oh, he looked right at me and spoke like two seconds ago." Rodney's hand flitted up.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Jennifer demanded.

"I'm sorry, I was a little distracted at the time," Rodney said impatiently. "Ok ok, this makes sense. I mean, we've encountered this before. He and Elizabeth had extra people in their heads."

"And you, right?"

"Right, well," Rodney coughed. "The point is this isn't unheard of. Some sort of device must have implanted another consciousness into his brain. That probably explains the foreign substance in his blood. He's probably fighting it because Sheppard's stupid like that." Rodney suddenly sobered. "I think I saw the other consciousness come out for a few seconds. Oh crap. Oh crap!"

"Ok, Rodney, calm down. Radio Woolsey and inform him of the developments. I'll start some extensive brain scans."

"And do what? Discover that his brain activity has doubled? Yes, we already know that," Rodney snapped. His previous elation had been short lived. Sure, he figured it out but he did that on a daily basis…with other things of course. The difference now was that Sheppard's life, and/or sanity, was on the line now.

"Rodney, I'm not going to argue with you. Radio Woolsey, now," Keller said firmly. She turned to a passing nurse, instructing the woman to ready Sheppard for a scan before disappearing into her office. Rodney tapped his earpiece.

"Woolsey, this is McKay, get down to the infirmary. Something's up with Sheppard."

XXX

John was fighting a battle. Nevid had invaded his head. This wasn't the first time John had had to share his brain space. But this time was not voluntary. And he was _not_ going to let Nevid take control of his body. He'd made that mistake the first time. Never again.

His head felt…stuffy. Like there wasn't enough room for the two of them. He was trying to take up all the room he could, mentally shoving Nevid into the corner. The problem was that Nevid was shoving back. Hard. And the freakin' thing wouldn't shut up! John could hardly concentrate. He couldn't afford to sleep, knowing what happened to McKay and Cadman. He couldn't talk to anyone. Talking to Rodney had very nearly destroyed all of his control altogether. It was giving him the mother of all headaches.

_Pain. Sensation. Wears it down. Makes it surrender. Will yield to us. Has to yield._

_**Shut up! **_John yelled to his unwelcome invader. He heard the familiar trilling laughter echo in the back of his mind.

XXX

"So how do we get it out?" Ronon asked.

"We don't." Rodney snapped. "We don't know anything about this and Sheppard certainly isn't in any condition to help us."

"Can we not go into his head directly?" Teyla suggested. She looked around at group gathered in the observation room. John had been moved into isolation after a plethora of tests. Here, under the bright focused lights, Teyla thought he looked even more pale and sickly. The sight made her nervous. She unconsciously tightened her hold on the bundled baby in her arms.

"And how would you like to do that, hm?" Rodney countered.

"Could we not enter his dreams? We have done that before," Teyla insisted. Rodney considered it but Dr. Keller jumped in.

"I don't know how much his brain can handle. I mean, if Rodney's right there are two consciousnesses in there now, I wouldn't want to add another one," she injected. Rodney frowned.

"What do you mean 'if'?" he groused. They ignored him.

"Didn't Dr. Jackson house several conscious minds in his own? He survived," Woolsey said.

"Barely," Keller insisted. "And it severely diminished his chances of survival. Rodney could barely survive just one added mind."

"Because we were both fighting for control," Rodney added.

"And you don't think Colonel Sheppard is fighting? I mean, he seems to be fighting even harder. How long is that going to last on its own? And how worse will it be if we add to the stress?" Jennifer pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead.

"We have to do something," Ronon rumbled.

"We need to go back to that cave and try to find out how this happened. Maybe find the person responsible," Rodney said. "It was probably that weird woman. I knew something was wrong with her."

"We all knew something was wrong with her," Teyla reminded him. "That is why we helped her to begin with."

"Regardless," Woolsey injected. "I agree; we need to go back to the planet and investigate this. Ronon, Dr. McKay, assemble a team and leave as soon as you can."

Teyla frowned when her name was not mentioned. "Mr. Woolsey—"

"Teyla, I want you to stay here," Woolsey insisted. "I think it might be better to have someone to stick close to the colonel." His eyes flicked down to the child in her arms. She narrowed her eyes but didn't argue. Staying with John was equally important. Of course she was the natural choice for the task. It didn't make it any less irritating.

She turned back to the big glass window and watched the tense, trembling man below. A silent prayer tumbled out of her lips as she sighed.

XXX

Teyla sat next to John's bed. She had an old half torn paperback book in her lap. Of Mice and Men. It was a curious story. She wasn't quite sure that she was enjoying the story. So she explained the situation to him. It was unclear if he was listening to her but she talked anyway, almost more for her own comfort than his.

She checked her watch for the umpteenth time. The team should be leaving at any moment now. Teyla put a hand on John's balled fist. She leaned close to his ear. "We are figuring this out, John. You must stay strong. We are here."

He didn't react. She didn't expect him to so she carefully uncurled his fingers and slid her hand into his grasp. His hand hesitated a moment before tightening again. Teyla smiled.

XXX

John mentally braced himself. Nevid always enjoyed it when Teyla was near. The creature sent sick and twisted thoughts through his mind. Thoughts so vile… John either blushed or tried to attack Nevid instead just blocking him. Attacking yielded nothing but exhaustion so he generally avoided that option. Except when Nevid started picturing Teyla doing unsightly things… or pictured John doing unsightly things to her. The mental barrage of images always left John feeling dirty. Nevid always enjoyed it when it felt dirty.

Which is why it came as such a surprise when Nevid suddenly retreated to the far corner of his mind. John suddenly wasn't pushing on anything. It shocked him to the core.

Teyla's hand was in his. He grasped it. Turned his head. "Teyla…"

Her eyes went wide. "John?"

"Hey…" he muttered. "I…I don't know what's happening." He had to say it out loud. Nevid wasn't pushing. What had happened? What was wrong? Something had to be wrong…

"We think you may have another consciousness in your body, John," Teyla supplied. John frowned, he already knew that but he didn't press the issue. The confusion was too distracting right now.

"He's not pushing," John mumbled.

"Who?"

"Nevid…"

"John, who is Nevid?" Teyla looked earnestly at him. John ignored the question.

"Something's wrong."

"The team is going to find out what happened," she assured him. "They will be leaving at any moment now."

And then it happened. In one instance, John was staring at her face. In the next instance, he was being mentally hurtled back with a herculean force. Nevid had come storming back with a strange new strength. John barely knew what was happening until he found himself straddling Teyla on the floor, medical equipment screaming and IV fluid flowing from the ripped out needle dangling by his eye. Teyla was staring at him, horrified. A thick and evil lust swept through him as he looked down at her. Teyla's hands gripped the two solid arms that pinned her shoulders to the floor. Gripped hard, painfully. Then another second passed and those hands snapped into crooks of his elbows and his head pitched forward into her waiting forehead that smacked painfully against his own. His body scrambled backwards, seemingly of its own accord, hands ripping out tubes here and there. Then he was up and bolting out of the room.

_**STOP STOP STOP!**_ John screamed. Tried to scream. No scream came out of his mouth. Instead it was a sickly, bubbling laughter as he charged down the hallways. _Where does it keep its stargate? _

_**No! **_

_Perhaps…_ John groaned, no sound coming out again, as something pulled sharply at his memories. There was an invasive digging and yanking of pictures and snapshots of his life. And Nevid just kept digging. John screamed as he felt bits of his life torn away and thrust into the vast blackness that was Nevid. _There it is! Stupid alien. Foolish to hide from me_.

John, _Nevid_, was running still, turning sharply down corridors. Alarms were blaring again. But John didn't hear them because Nevid kept digging, ripping his psyche apart from the inside out, spreading it around like compost in a garden.

The shimmering blue of the event horizon suddenly filled his vision. John finally pushed back then. He threw all his strength against the entity. But Nevid easily held him back, laughing hysterically. John felt the twisted pleasure flit through his stomach.

Someone tackled him as he neared the gate, with enough force to crack a few ribs on the unyielding floor. Body weight pressed down on him. The face of a young lieutenant came into view. Nevid's rage took John's breath away. He strained to pull himself back as his head suddenly lurched towards the younger man. John screamed in horror as he felt his teeth sink into flesh and warm metallic fluid flooded his mouth.

Then the gate shut down. In a heartbeat, Nevid's super strength abruptly went lax. John ruthlessly shoved him back. His head spun. His stomach churned. With rubbery arms, he tried to crawl away but suddenly found that he was being pushed to the ground by more than just the profusely bleeding lieutenant. People were shouting around him.

John couldn't handle it anymore. His stomach squeezed tightly and he retched onto the ground. Blood and bile and feeding-tube fluid splashed onto his face and soaked into his clothes. The people holding him suddenly backed off in favor of not getting splattered with the vile stuff.

John felt black edging in around his vision just as his felt his body start to convulse.

Darkness took him. In more ways than one.

XXX


End file.
